


a year of love;

by kinneyb



Series: first times [17]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:48:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22589671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: “I’m impressed. I never thought Geralt could keep a partner long enough for things like anniversaries.”“Yeah,” Jaskier breathed, biting his bottom lip. “He’s, um–he’s changed a lot.”Yennefer nodded. “Because of you,” she said. “You’re good for him, Jaskier.”He grinned, unable to help himself, and ducked his head almost shyly. He thought Geralt was good for him, too. They were good for each other./It's their anniversary and Jaskier wants to celebrate. Chaos (does not) ensue.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: first times [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1579837
Comments: 25
Kudos: 1271





	a year of love;

**Author's Note:**

> i heard y'all loud and clear that the last few fics were kind of sad so here's some fluff/smut! <3
> 
> follow me twitter @ queermight or tumblr @ korrmin

Jaskier approached Yennefer one day while Geralt was training with Cirilla. “Can you watch over Ciri tonight?” he asked in a hushed voice, obviously not wanting Geralt to hear.

“Hmm,” she replied, eyeing him curiously. “Depends. Why?”

Jaskier knew Yennefer would probably make fun of him if he told her the truth but he’d stopped lying to her a long time ago. They were friends. They poked fun at each other, often, but he trusted her.

“It’s our–” he looked at Geralt from across the open field “–anniversary.”

Yennefer smirked, folding her arms over her chest. “That is _so_ sick.” Jaskier rolled his eyes and she nudged him with her shoulder. “But okay.”

“Really?” he asked, brightening up like the sun.

Yennefer shrugged. “We can spend the night gossiping about boys,” she drawled dryly, and Jaskier rolled his eyes again.

“Whatever,” he said. “Thank you, Yennefer.”

She smiled, a little more genuine. “I’m impressed,” she said after a moment, an almost thoughtful look on her face as she watched Geralt. “I never thought Geralt could keep a partner long enough for things like anniversaries.”

“Yeah,” Jaskier breathed, biting his bottom lip. “He’s, um–he’s changed a lot.”

Yennefer nodded. “Because of you,” she said. “You’re good for him, Jaskier.”

He grinned, unable to help himself, and ducked his head almost shyly. He thought Geralt was good for him, too. They were good for each other.

After training, they all walked back to the inn. Yennefer and Cirilla disappeared into their room, and Jaskier followed Geralt to the washroom and joined him in the tub. He sat between Geralt’s parted legs, his back pressed up against the witcher’s chest.

Geralt wasn’t talking much–he usually didn’t after a long day of training.

Jaskier shifted, turning in his lap, and grabbed the soap, slowly washing the dirt and sweat off his chest. Geralt hmmed, obviously pleased, eyes closed as he leaned his head back.

“Turn around,” Jaskier said finally.

Geralt obeyed silently, and Jaskier started cleaning his back. He rinsed it off and started on his hair, scratching his scalp with his blunt fingernails.

“So,” he said, rinsing his hair. “Um.”

Geralt grunted, turning his head to look at him. “You okay?” he asked.

Jaskier nodded quickly, smiling. “Better than okay,” he assured him, and Geralt turned back. Jaskier finished his hair and combed his fingers through the wet strands. “I was just, um. I was hoping we could do something tonight.”

“Hmm,” he replied. “Like what?”

Jaskier cleared his throat. “I had something planned, but if you want to hold off–I know you’re tired,” he said, a little too fast.

Geralt turned around in the tub, facing him. He was smiling, the barest hint of teeth. He reached up and brushed some hair out of Jaskier’s face. “I’m not _that_ tired,” he said with a hint of amusement.

Feeling better, Jaskier nodded. “Wash my hair?”

Geralt nodded and took the soap from him. “Turn around.”

After they were finished, they climbed out of the tub and dressed in their clothes. Jaskier helped Geralt put his hair in a bun, tied back comfortably and loosely.

“So, can I ask where you’re taking me or–?” Geralt asked, smirking.

Jaskier looped their arms together and tugged him down the hall of the inn. “No spoilers,” he said with a toothy grin.

Geralt rolled his eyes with a huff of laughter. Jaskier led them out of the inn and through the town. Geralt kept glancing around, a curious glint in his eyes. Jaskier reached up and kissed his jaw.

“Stop trying to ruin the surprise,” he said.

Geralt hmmed, slipping an arm around Jaskier’s shoulders and pulling him closer. Jaskier grinned, biting the inside of his cheek, and leaned his head on Geralt’s shoulder.

He knew it was a stupid idea and frankly Jaskier didn’t know if Geralt would even enjoy it but it was their first anniversary. He had to do _something_.

Jaskier stopped in front of the tavern. Geralt looked at him oddly.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he drawled, “I _am_ hungry but admittedly this is not what I was expecting.”

Jaskier laughed softly and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Come on,” he said, reaching down and taking his hand. He squeezed, once, as he walked over and opened the door.

The tavern was empty and dark. Geralt could see thanks to his enhanced senses, though: most of the tables had been moved to the side of the room with just one table left in the middle with two chairs. A woman walked out of the back and approached the table, silently lighting the candles.

Geralt glanced at Jaskier, eyebrows furrowed, as he pulled them toward it.

Jaskier sat first and Geralt took the other chair, still staring at him, equal parts confused and amused. The candlelight was washing Jaskier in a warm golden glow and Geralt thought he looked gorgeous.

“I’ll be right back with your food,” the woman–the waitress, he realized–said before walking away.

Geralt was mostly just confused now. “What is this?” he asked Jaskier. “And _how_ are we paying for it?”

Jaskier smiled sheepishly. “Um, do you know what today is?” he asked. He barely waited a second before continuing: “It’s our anniversary. We’ve been together for one year.”

“Oh,” he breathed, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “ _Really_?”

Jaskier nodded, reaching out and rubbing their legs together under the table. “Can you believe it?” he asked softly. “A whole _year_ , Geralt. I mean, for us… that might as well be ten years.”

Geralt snorted, rubbing the side of Jaskier’s leg with his calf. “You’re not wrong,” he agreed. “I’m–” he stopped, a weird edge to his voice. He cleared his throat. “I’m scared of losing you every day we wake up, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s heart squeezed in his chest. “But you haven’t,” he whispered. “I’m still here,” he reached for Geralt’s hand, taking it, “and I have no plans of leaving.”

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, and Jaskier could tell he was getting uncomfortable with all the _feelings_ talk. He was improving day by day, and Jaskier was proud of him, but he was still just Geralt, the same man who’d spent most of his life convinced love was weakness.

“Oh and we’re not _paying_ for any of this,” Jaskier said with a sly grin.

Geralt narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I told the owner what I wanted to do and apparently my songs really are a hit; he agreed to let us have the place tonight for free.”

Geralt stared at him. “You’re kidding,” he said.

Jaskier grinned, shrugging. “What can I say?” he winked. “You have a lot of fans.”

He rolled his eyes but if Jaskier didn’t know better he’d almost say he was blushing. “I think those are _your_ fans,” he corrected dryly.

The waitress returned with their food and Jaskier laughed at Geralt’s expression, mouth nearly watering. Dinner was mostly silent after that. Growing up, Jaskier had hated the quiet. He always felt unsafe in it, and perhaps that was why he’d been so drawn to singing.

But with Geralt, he didn’t mind it so much. He could never feel unsafe around Geralt.

Finishing up, Jaskier wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned forward. “So, I was thinking–” Geralt was staring at him intensely, and he paused mid-sentence. “What?” he asked, flushing. “Is there something on my face?” he joked lightly.

But apparently he was right. Geralt nodded. Jaskier wiped his mouth again.

“Did I get it?” he asked quietly. Geralt shook his head and Jaskier’s bottom lip jutted out in a pout. “ _Seriously?_ ”

Geralt licked his lips, slow, eyes dark. “Let me,” he grumbled as he leaned forward and reached out with his thumb. He gently brushed his thumb across Jaskier’s bottom lip, letting it linger at the corner of his mouth. “Got it,” he whispered, voice rough with lust.

Jaskier took a shaky breath. “Oh, um. Good,” he whispered.

“Did you have anything else planned for tonight?” he asked, low.

Jaskier gulped, swallowing thickly. He shook his head, silent.

“Well,” Geralt drawled. “Do you want to go back to our room?” He shivered with the implications of Geralt’s words.

Jaskier turned his head and gently sucked the tip of Geralt’s thumb between his lips. He could feel Geralt’s shiver, and fuck, he was hard in the middle of a tavern. Talk about embarrassing.

He released his thumb with an obscene _pop_ and Geralt stood up so fast he knocked his chair back. Jaskier laughed, airy, as he stood up with him. Geralt grabbed his hand, squeezing, and yanked him toward the door, impatient as ever.

Sex with Geralt was the best Jaskier had ever had for many reasons. One, he had the stamina of a fucking bull. He could get hard five, six, seven times in one night. He knew it was probably a witcher thing. Two, he knew when to be rough and he knew when to be soft. But most importantly, Jaskier was in love with him.

He had thought he was in love with many folks he slept with, to be fair. But after being with Geralt, he knew he’d been wrong.

Geralt was real, he was the love of his life and Jaskier couldn’t be happier.

Probably helped that he currently had Geralt’s mouth on his dick, of course. Jaskier groaned, tilting his head back, and digging his fingers in Geralt’s hair. “Fuck, I–I can’t–”

Geralt pulled off and looked up at him, licking his lips. “Is that a problem?”

“ _Hardly_ ,” he replied through a gasp, “but–but I want–I want you inside me.”

Geralt groaned, like it’d been punched out of him, and moved up the bed, hovering over Jaskier with wet, swollen lips from having him in his mouth for so long and _Gods_ , it’s a sight.

“I love you,” Jaskier said, the words flowing out without a second thought.

Geralt stared down at him, a softness in his eyes he reserved for only him (and occasionally, sometimes, Cirilla). “I know,” he said. “And I feel the same way.” He leaned down and kissed him, slow and deep.

Jaskier licked into his mouth, tasting him, wishing they never had to stop.

Geralt pulled away and Jaskier whined impatiently. “Be patient,” the witcher chided, and Jaskier shivered, watching as he reached over and pulled a vial of oil from his bag.

“Gods, yes,” he moaned. “Fuck me, you big oaf.”

Geralt let out a laugh. “For a poet,” he drawled, “you can’t talk dirty for shit.”

Jaskier whined again. “Stop talking, more fucking.”

“Yes, yes, little bard, whatever you want,” he said, opening the vial and pouring a generous amount of oil over his fingers. Jaskier waited with bated breath until he _finally_ felt the first press of one of Geralt’s fingers.

Geralt pushed his finger in all the way and started to fuck him with it, slow, before slowly adding a second and a third. Jaskier was a quivering mess by the end of it, begging and pleading for more. Geralt smirked, working his fingers faster, rubbing over the extra sensitive bundle of nerves located inside him over and over again.

“I could get used to this,” he commented, and Jaskier almost sobbed.

“Please,” he begged. “I–I need it, Geralt, I–I need _you_.”

Geralt smiled and kissed him as he pulled his fingers out and poured some oil over his cock, hard as a rock. Jaskier wasn’t the only one who suffered from his teasing. Pulling back, he pressed their foreheads together and took a shaky breath, pressing the tip of his cock against Jaskier’s opening, wet from all the oil and teasing.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Jaskier repeated like a prayer.

Geralt laughed. He e pushed in, just the tip, and paused, letting them both adjust.

After that, Geralt slowly pushed in, inch by inch, until he bottomed out in the young bard. Jaskier let out a sob, squeezing around him, and Geralt moaned, closing his eyes.

“If you do that,” he panted, “I won’t last long.”

Jaskier grinned, dopey. “That’s the plan,” he slurred, wrapping his legs around Geralt’s waist, digging his heels into his back, and pulling him closer.

Geralt growled, low in his throat, and leaned down, burying his face in the crook of Jaskier’s neck. He started to fuck him, fast and deep, biting and licking and sucking at his neck, no doubt leaving marks and bruises. Geralt shivered at the realization.

Jaskier clawed at his back with blunt fingernails, gasping. “Yes, yes, _yes_.”

“Come for me, my bard,” he whispered in his ear and that was enough; Jaskier let out a sob as he spilled between their bodies, all over their stomachs, making a mess of them.

Geralt groaned and fucked him harder, faster, joining him seconds later.

Afterwards, Geralt gently pulled out of him and flopped on the bed, panting. Jaskier giggled, tired and dopey, and leaned his head on Geralt’s shoulder. “Who knew all it took to exhaust the White Wolf was a great fuck?” he mumbled tiredly.

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, eyes closed, “don’t tell my secrets.”

Jaskier laughed softly and buried his face against Geralt’s shoulder with a happy sigh. He was silent for a bit, but Geralt could practically hear him thinking. It was a gift (or a curse, depending on how you looked at it).

“What is it?” he asked quietly, opening his eyes.

Jaskier shifted, peering up at him. “Can I… admit something?” he asked. Geralt nodded, staring at him curiously and maybe just a little worried. “When, um–when the thing happened with the–the doppler, I was afraid that maybe… things… _certain_ things would be hard for me.”

“They haven’t been, right?” he asked quickly. “Jaskier, you should’ve told–”

Jaskier leaned up, silencing him with a kiss, soft and sweet. “They haven’t,” he confirmed, nuzzling Geralt’s jaw. “As soon as you touch me, it’s like my body knows it’s you and I feel safe and happy and warm. I’m just–I’m happy. That–that _thing_ was not going to take anything else from me.”

Geralt rubbed his arm. “You’re very strong, Jaskier,” he commented. Jaskier scoffed, but he simply pulled him closer. “You are,” he repeated firmly. “I’m sorry for ever doubting your strength.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled but he was grinning, a flush high on his cheeks. Geralt shrugged and Jaskier laughed, smacking his chest. “I’m joking, Geralt, _please_ keep talking.”

Geralt smiled, leaning down and rubbing their noses together. “Thank you for tonight, Jaskier,” he said. “I enjoyed it, and I hope for many more years together.” When he pulled back, he frowned at the tears in Jaskier’s eyes. “Happy tears?” he asked, just to be sure.

Jaskier laughed wetly. “The happiest,” he confirmed.


End file.
